


Waking Hours

by theruinedcastle



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Community: femslash100, Community: rounds_of_kink, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theruinedcastle/pseuds/theruinedcastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda and the summer heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: [challenge #502 - pool](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/1854846.html) at [femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/); _pool (prompt), striptease (kink)_ for the [2016 Summer Heat Mini-Round](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/786802.html) at [rounds_of_kink](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/).

The water is only slightly cooler than the muggy summer night air, but it makes all the difference as Miranda dips beneath the surface and then reemerges, hair slicked back and the slight breeze cooling her wet skin. She rests against the edge of the pool, a sip of her iced drink chilling her further, and sighs, allowing herself to relax.

"Is there room for one more?"

Miranda jumps. It isn't possible for her to be here. She's in the city, hours away. But when Miranda opens her eyes, Andrea is standing on her back deck illuminated by the dim glow of the pool lights. She locks her eyes on Miranda as she pulls her t-shirt over her head before turning around and shimmying out of her shorts.

"Ridiculous," Miranda breathes at the all-too-familiar spark of arousal, unable to cut her eyes away from the woman's ass, her gaze sliding up her bikini-clad form when she turns to face her once more.

"What's ridiculous," Andrea says as she descends the steps into the shallow end of the pool, gaze filled with promises to eat her alive, "is pretending you don't want this."

"I'm not," Miranda hears herself say, fixated on the long legs disappearing beneath the water. "I don't," she adds, swallowing hard when Andrea's fingers pull at the strings at one hip, and then the other. Andrea steps close, and Miranda reaches for the bow between her breasts. 

"You don't, huh," Andrea says, smirking, and Miranda pulls the strings.

\---

Miranda snaps awake, drenched in sweat. She throws off the blankets, peels off her soaked nightgown, and, mouth dry, downs a chilled drink from the liquor cabinet in the next room. 

The heat is unbearable, and it is no night sweat or hot flash. The thermostat has been set to an unreasonable temperature -- strange, as she's the only one in the house. A call to her assistant ensures that a suitable professional will be by before sunrise, and a cooler-than-usual shower cleanses and cools her, until she shuts off the water. 

Dismissing the hassle of a hotel, Miranda mixes another drink, resigned to spending the early morning hours outdoors. She wades into the pool, sips on her cold drink, and closes her eyes, welcoming the effects of the alcohol and the respite from the heat.

Her mind drifts to vague recollections of a dream, of Andrea's tendency to see right through her, to get under her skin, and Miranda's tendency to allow it, even in her waking hours. In those hours, Andrea does not cross the line from professional into something much more personal, something that would shift the power into Andrea's hands. In Miranda's dreams, however… 

Without thinking, Miranda slips a hand between her legs, both surprised and exasperated by how sensitive she already is. 

"Ridiculous," she breathes, removing her hand, and then jumps when she notices a figure on the deck.

Andrea has a wicked look in her eyes. She smirks.

"Is there room for one more?"


End file.
